Monster
by Gwendolyn Rogan
Summary: .abandoned. Her name was Alexandréa Wilhem, a young Polish woman known to most as Ladyhawk. She was not human, as she had been reminded of most of her life. She was different. Mutant. Creature. Monster. Death.
1. They're gathered in circles

A/N - Hmm, despite the fact that I am currently writing, ohhh, two more fics at the moment, it was just too tempting to put this one up. This story has been floating around in my mind for awhile now, since the first movie came out I would have to say, and I am only now putting it down in type. I will be mixing elements from both the comic books and the movies. However, this will mostly have elements from the movies because I am far more familiar with that world. Umm, X-Men does not belong to me, but to Marvel Comics, etc. However, there are certain characters that do belong to me. Basically, if you don't recognize them, than they are mine. Simple enough.  
  
Oh yes, The Hunted (SW Fic) is on the top of my priority list, so I'm not sure how often this one will get updated. Yeah, sorry to put a damper on the story right-off-the-bat, but I had to say it sooner or later. Ahem, now that I am done boring you, enjoy.  
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**Monster**  
  
  
One  
  
  
_Twenty miles outside of Szczecin, Poland_  
  
The dawn was pink that morning, just as it was every morning. Day after day, the dawn was pink. That pink eventually became a golden morning and then the blue sky of day. If it wasn't clouded over, that is. However, that morning was it's normal pink hue and nothing was different. At least it wasn't different to most people. To one being it was, though. To her, it was different. A certain feeling was floating in the air, flying on the breeze and whispering something just too low for her to hear. How it annoyed her.  
  
Standing at a large picture window, staring straight out into the pink sky, a tall, female being looked sightlessly at the view. She was not human, as she had been reminded of her entire life. She was different.  
  
Mutant.  
  
Creature.  
  
Monster.  
  
The words had been pounded into her mind for long enough that it was often all she thought about. All she could think about.  
  
Monster.  
  
Monster.  
  
Monster.  
  
Get out of my mind! She finally screeched. Grabbing her head between two long, highly adorned hands, she doubled over, squeezing her eyes tightly together. Get out! Get out! Get out  
  
Large tears started to drip down once pristine, pale cheeks as she crumpled to the ground. Her screeching had died down to a bare whisper and eventually into nothing at all. The woman simply rocked back and forth, her head still clasped between her hands. Wisps of ebony hair fell into her face, sticking to her moist cheeks.   
  
The rocking soon stopped and she laid there in front of her window in a heap. Her back bent over her knees and her elbows resting against the ground, one word escaped the woman's coral lips.  
  
she whispered, her eyelids still clenched together.  
  
She didn't even notice the loud banging sounding at the door or the cries coming from beyond.  
  
Lady Alexandréa! Lady Alexandréa! Is everything all right! The voice travelled through the air, but the woman did not hear. My Lady Alexandréa!  
  
the woman whispered. Alexandréa. That's right. That's me. I am Alexandréa.  
  
My Lady!  
  
Monster.  
  
My Lady! The other woman finally broke through the doors and ran to her lady's side. She knelt next to Alexandréa and put her arms around her back, making gentle noises to calm the young woman.  
  
Monster, Alexandréa muttered.  
  
No, Lady, no. You are not a monster. No, you are beautiful, gorgeous even. No, Lady Alexandréa, you're not a monster.  
  
Yes, I am not a monster, Alexandréa agreed. Not a monster. I'm beautiful, gorgeous.  
  
Yes, that's right. You are Ladyhawk.  
  
Alexandréa echoed.   
  
And you are a glorious fighter, the best, the highest. You are _the_ gladiator.  
  
Fighter. Gladiator. Alexandréa started to straighten up. Her ice-blue eyes came back into focus and, blinking several times, she looked at the woman at her side.  
  
Kirsten, what are you doing here? Alexandréa asked, her voice stronger, her eyes suddenly dry. What happened? Did I  
  
When Kirsten nodded, Alexandréa took her chin in an adorned hand and sighed. Oh dear. I do hate having those episodes, especially since I can't remember what happened.  
  
Nothing out of the ordinary, my lady, Kirsten nodded. At least not this time.  
  
Oh, well, yes, that is a good thing, very good. Alexandréa folded her long legs beneath her and stood in a fluid motion. Crossing her arms and walking back to the window, Alexandréa looked out into the pink dawn, this time her eyes taking in the surrounding wilderness. What is on the schedule for today?  
  
Well, my lady, you have an early morning fight at oh-eight-hundred. The rest of the day depends on that fight, Kirsten said, pulling out a schedule.  
  
Yes, yes, of course it does. Alexandréa nodded once and clasped her hands behind her back. Than I better get ready if it is at eight. Call in the servants.  
  
Yes, my lady. Right away, Kirsten turned from her lady's chamber and disappeared down a hallway. This left Alexandréa alone with only the sunrise.  
  
Pulling at the loose garment she wore, Alexandréa muttered something to herself about it being a pity to ruin perfectly good clothing. At the completion of her comment, Alexandréa closed her eyes and concentrated. She could no longer feel them growing out of her back, but the ripping of fabric did tingle her senses. Within only a few seconds, Alexandréa reopened her eyes and looked back to the heightening sun. Where a smooth back had been moments ago, two large, leathery, and dark grey wings now towered. In length , they were impressive, even when folded. The claw was far above her head while the tips nearly brushed the floor. Many said they looked like the wings of the mythical dragon; others said they were as hideous as a bat's. Either way, Alexandréa did not care. They should not have been hers. No, for this was not her mutation. Not her true mutation, that is.  
  
The scuttling of feet announced the servants' approach. Turning around, one hand clasping the torn garment over her breasts, Alexandréa smiled.  
  
Good morning, she said softly.  
  
A very good morning to you too, Lady, the three girls said in unison.   
  
May we begin your preparation for the battle? The tallest of the three girls asked. This was Constantine, a young mutant with short, spiked blue hair that travelled the length of her spine. Her long fingers ended in thick claws that were dulled by order of the scientists, just as two elongated canine teeth were. She was strong and quick and Alexandréa knew that one day, this girl would live as a gladiator with servants of her own.  
  
Of course you may, my dear. The whimpering child that she had been only moments before was now replaced by a woman who's very presence demanded respect. Her every finger had been adorned with metal and jewels after years of being on the top. A jewelled collar often graced her long neck, silk was what she often wore. There was nothing that even suggested the episodes she often lived through. Nothing except for the longing in her striking eyes. But even then, one had to be trained to see the emotion lingering there.  
  
Stepping forward, the three girls removed the woman's torn garment, replacing it quickly with a short, tight fitting skirt and a halter top made to fit around the wings. They removed the jewellery adorning her to add arm cuffs, leather throngs, and deep crimson paint. On her feet they put sandals with leather straps that wrapped around her legs from her ankles to her knees.  
  
Constantine pulled Alexandréa's raven hair into a high ponytail while another added black paint to her eyelids. All the while, the third girl went to work painting symbols and words on Alexandréa's wings and skin.  
  
When done, Alexandréa looked every inch the gladiator she had become over the years. Muscles were fluid under pale skin as she moved and suggested power was in her every step.  
  
You're gorgeous, Lady.  
  
  
  
  
  
_Monster.  
  
_Alexandréa spun around to look out the window and swallowed. The pink dawn stared back and then was suddenly gone, replaced by the golden morning. Just as it always was.  
  
Wrapping her arms around her body, Alexandréa turned from the window to follow the children out into the hall. It was hard to believe, even after all these years, that her large mahogany doors led to a hall of concrete. It was cold here, far from the warmth of her room. It was also dank; it smelled of blood and sweat. And rightly so. Just a few meters down the hall, barred cells started to appear. At first they were few and far between, each one holding either one or no mutants. These had windows that looked out into the day, at least the ones on the east side of the hall did. However, further down, the cells began to become more frequent, the ones here holding at times four mutants. These were the pens for the lowest of the low. At least as far as the gladiators were concerned.   
  
As she passed these cells, Alexandréa shuttered and brought her arms tighter around herself. How she hated to walk through this hall. The glares she received from those living here hurt and cut deeper than any wound from battle did. She had lived here once, long before she became the best. This is were she had grown up, in the cramped quarters of one of these cells. This was were most of her friends had been left.  
  
This is where those she killed came from.  
  
It was early yet, so Alexandréa didn't expect much attention. However, those who did notice her scowled. They knew one day they would be put up against her. One day their lives would end out in the stadium under the watchful eye of spectators and the scientists.   
  
How they hated her.  
  
_Monster._ It began as nothing more than a thought she picked up from those who did not shut their minds from her. Soon enough, however, it became a whisper and then a roar.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Look at her  
  
  
  
She's too good for us now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Alexandréa muttered to herself.  
  
She's falling apart.  
  
  
  
Stop it! he finally screamed. Spinning around to face the mutants, she was surprised to see every single one of them just waking from their sleep. They gave her odd, hateful glances before rolling over and covering their heads to fall asleep once again.  
  
Stop what, my lady? One of the girls asked. Alexandréa turned to look into her yellow eyes.  
  
The voices.  
  
What voices, Lady?  
  
Their voices, she gestured with her arm to the sleeping mutants. Do you not hear them?  
  
No, Lady, the yellow-eyed girl said, shaking her head. They were all asleep until you woke them up.  
  
Were they? They were not screaming their hate for me? For what I am?  
  
What are you, my lady?  
  
A monster, can you not see it child? These wings? This life? I am a monster in every definition of the word, spoken or written. These wings are not mine, I was not supposed to be born with them, only, only Alexandréa stopped when the children's gazes came as nothing but confusion. Then their emotions hit her. It was a wall of confusion, doubt, fear, irritation. You see it too. You see the monster that I am.  
  
No, my lady.  
  
Your thoughts give you away, child!  
  
My thoughts?  
  
Your mind, it is open for me to read, or do you not know. Telepathy, that's what I was born with, that and TK.  
  
  
  
Telekinesis, dummy, one of the other girls whispered.  
  
Yes, that's what I was born with, the ability to read minds and move objects with my own. The woman's eyes had grown unfocused and the children could no longer follow exactly what she was saying. Spectres of the future come to me, visions of what will be and others of what have come to past. I see things before they happen, that is why I am so good. I can sense what my opponent will do, often before even they know. I can even reach out and touch someone miles away, sense them when they are near. I can sense your fear, child, and yours, what's your name?  
  
Lydia, Lady, you know that.  
  
Do not tell me what I know! Putting her hand out, Alexandréa started to roughly stroke Lydia's blonde hair. Tell me, Lydia, do you know what it is like being able to hear everyone's thoughts, feel everyone's emotions?  
  
N-no, Lady, I don't. Lydia's eyes widened in fear. This only made Alexandréa grip the girl's hair harder.  
  
No, of course you don't know what it is like. You are too young to understand, to understand anything. Maybe when you are my age, when you are a wretched nineteen years old, then maybe you will know. Then maybe you will be able to understand.  
  
Yes, Lady, maybe I will be able to understand then.  
  
Of course you will be able to understand. You don't think they are going to keep you as a servant girl, do you? Not with the powers you have brewing inside.  
  
But, Lady, I am no mutant, Lydia stammered, backing away.  
  
Of course you are, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Leaning closer to the girl, Alexandréa lowered her voice to a whisper, her head tilted to one side, her ice-blue eyes unfocused. I have looked into your future, girl. You will become powerful, more powerful than even the scientists projected. You are an experiment, just like I was. You have the power within you to break free. Reach inside, girl, reach inside and let the powers flow free.  
  
She's gone delusional again, the yellow-eyed girl murmured to Constantine.  
  
Have I? Alexandréa looked past Lydia to the other two, her eyes still unfocused. Have I gone completely off my rocker, mad as Hamlet's Ophelia or the March Hare? Or is this just an act, a play in which we are all the players? An antic disposition, if you will.  
  
I don't know, Lady, Yellow swallowed. I don't know.  
  
Of course you don't know! But why should you believe me? These words are coming from a monster. Monster. Alexandréa's eyes rolled back in her head, but she didn't collapse. Instead, they stayed like that for several moments. When they finally did roll forward, her bright eyes were focused once more. Straightening, Alexandréa looked around, utterly confused. Shouldn't we be getting to the arena?  
  
Y-yes, Lady, Lydia nodded. She turned and started walking back down the hall. All of the caged mutants who had witnessed Alexandréa's episode followed her with their eyes until she had disappeared around the corner. As soon as she was gone, they pulled into a tight group and started to whisper among themselves.  
  
Remember when she lived here? One of the men asked.  
  
Yes, she did not have those episodes back then. Not until she rose to the top did they start, a feline-eyed female commented, her short hair flattening against her head. I have heard of others who had the same downfall. But they only lasted a few weeks. How long has it been for her?  
  
Two years, someone unseen answered.  
  
Two years, the feline repeated. Two long years of episodes. It is amazing she has not fallen in battle yet.  
  
She has a will, and is too damned pleased with her position, another mutant put in. I think she also enjoys the killings.  
  
the first man—a short, lean man with brown hair—said. She is favored by the scientists, that is why she is still alive. Why they still let her be alive.  
  
Is that so?  
  
Yes, but they make her think things, things that are not true.  
  
Such as?  
  
the man whispered.  
  
  
  
  
  
Alexandréa looked around at the stands. They were filled, even this early in the morning. They were filled and every single one of the occupants were dealing her words of hate. Their emotions rolled off of them like tidal waves and it was all Alexandréa could do but block them out. She had too. Otherwise she would lose the fight. Lose her title. Lose her life.  
  
_Maybe this is what Hell is like,_ she mused.  
  
But today would be a good day, she decided. Despite the hate thrown at her, this would be a good day to fight. The hate, though hard to block out, only fuelled her anger. With anger, it was easier to kill and easier to block out the horror of what she was doing.   
  
As concentrated on the crowd as she was, Alexandréa almost missed her introduction. That would not have sat well with the scientists.  
  
She has been the reigning champion of these walls for two years now, ladies and gentlemen. After only nineteen years of being alive, she has risen to the top and has defeated all others to be at the top, to remain the favorite. Will today be her final fight? Her final time to fly? Here she is, our reigning champion, Ladyhawk!  
  
Yet another constant in her life, another thing to experience day in and day out. The words had not changed in years, except for how long she had been the champion and her age. After a moment longer, Alexandréa sprinted from her spot on the high wall of the coliseum and jumped into mid-air. She did not spread her wings nor did she do a single thing to stop her fall. It was all a show, as she had decided years ago. The thrill she used to have from free fall was long gone and the surprise from those watching was nothing new. More constants, more things that never changed.  
  
Spreading her great dragon-like wings when it seemed just too late, Alexandréa landed safely on the ground. Turning in circles and waving at the crowd, she basked in the cheers that had arisen. Yes, there still was that heart stopping moment—even in one so detached as Alexandréa—when the realization hits that they are cheering for you and no one else. The joy, however, was quickly diminished as her morning's competition entered the arena.   
  
Alexandréa did not so much as see her but feel the arrogance roll off of the newcomer. Flapping her great wings in annoyance, she folded them and turned to look upon that morning's competitor.  
  
It was a woman. A woman so liquid in movement it was hard to tell if she was actually touching the ground as she walked or simply floating on the air. Silvery hair flowed about her as if under it's own will and dark eyes stood out from pale skin. Alexandréa could not get any sort of read from this woman. Her mind was too tightly blocked to read, her emotions locked up inside. She was another one of the favorites. Alexandréa knew it right away. And she was just as detached from this as Alexandréa was.  
  
she hissed, her accent distinctly German, but her words coming in Polish. It will be a pleasure fighting you today and seeing you squirm as I reach the top.  
  
Don't you know not to say things like that by now. They never get you anywhere. They hold no truth.  
  
Oh. Do you know something I do not. The liquid woman's eyes widened slightly.  
  
I know your future.  
  
the other's voice came out as nothing more than a whisper. I'm scared.  
  
Alexandréa simply smiled. The line was corny, she knew, but it was able to strike fear in the hearts of some. Not this woman, but those with a weak will and poor minds.  
  
But not nearly scared enough, Alexandréa sneered. Another horrible line, but it was all for show, she kept repeating to herself, it was all for show.  
  
Well then, we shall see, the woman snarled. She was Ariel, as the announcer said, a mutant with control of water and the ability to produce it herself.  
  
Yes we will. Alexandréa called a long,, wooden staff to her hands—her weopon of choice— and ducked into a ready poistion. Ariel brought her hands up and smiled, a ball of water appearing from nowhere. The crowd grew silent and the fight began.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. The lamps light their faces

A/N - Did I mention that this is an AU? It takes place after X2, though not immediately. Umm, oh yes, the chapter titles in the little pull tab are lyrics by Loreena McKennitt and the song is Marrakesh Night Market. They do not belong to me, I am simply using them.  
  
Sorry it took so long to get another chappy out. Oh, I am also taking away such elements as the whole Amanda factor from the comics. It will become apparent why though not necessarily important. And, for those of you who don't know who Amanda is, don't worry your little heads about it.  
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Two _  
  
  
_ Well, doctor? Alexandréa asked, looking up at a man in a white lab coat. She was sitting on an examination table, her wings no longer visible, with only a towel draped over her lap. Her ebony hair was draped over her breasts, though not purposely, hiding them from the doctor's view. The man in his later thirties looked back at the mutant, completely unphased by her state of undress.  
  
Despite the cuts and bruises, you are as healthy as I have ever seen you, Lady, he said, turning completely around. He set his clipboard on the counter and a pen in his pocket. Looking at her over the rim of his glasses, he smiled slightly. I don't know how you do it. Are you hiding a mutation from us, Lady?  
  
The scientists would know every and all mutations I have with all of the tests they run on me. You'd think that know enough about me by now. Alexandréa scowled and played with the corner of the towel. They certainly test me enough.  
  
I think you've made that point, Lady.  
  
On the contrary, Doctor, I don't think I have. The scientists don't realize that they've done enough and that they know enough. Alexandréa huffed, crossing her arms over her bare breasts.  
  
When they do know enough then they will stop, Lady. The doctor struck a pose very similar to Alexandréa's as he leaned against the counter top. Believe me, I think they run enough tests, but they are in charge here. Not you and certainly not me.  
  
You'd think they would go out of their way not to distress their favorite, Alexandréa said under her breath.  
  
You are far from distressed. The doctor rose his brow and shook his head slightly. This woman in front of him had an ego about her, that was certainly clear. It wasn't like this when she was younger, back before she had risen to the top. When she was younger, she had been hesitant about her powers and the skills she had developed, but not now. Now it almost seemed as if she enjoyed the fights and the ritual killings. The doctor sighed and turned around to jot something down on his clipboard.  
  
Am I done here, Doctor?  
  
Oh, yes, you may go, he said, looking up. He motioned to the clothes Alexandréa had deposited on a chair and went back to writing down his notes.  
  
Standing up, Alexandréa dropped the towel and quickly pulled on her leather skirt and halter top from the fight. She had come directly here afterwards and was dismayed that the leather was still soaking wet. The water mutant, Ariel, had really been a bother. She had tried to force water into Alexandréa lungs to drown her, but it had not worked, which was obvious seeing as Alexandréa was still alive and the other mutant was dead.  
  
The other woman had been hard to kill, because she had been fast, but Alexandréa had succeeded in the end. The woman could produce water, but she could still drown in it, as Alexandréa had found out near the end of the battle and that had been Ariel's downfall.  
  
A small smile spread across Alexandréa's lips as she left the examination room. Another fight down, another day to live. There had only been one fight scheduled for that day and for that Alexandréa was glad. She enjoyed fighting, and she enjoyed the roar of the crowd, but she did not feel like exerting anymore mental energy today, at least not the amount that it took to fight.  
  
The halls grew steadily worse as she went back to her quarters. Guards shadowed her from the moment she had left the medical area and that is where they stayed until Alexandréa was back in her room. She smiled at the two of them, teasing the two men, before slipping into her room. There, she found her personal aide, Kirsten.  
  
she started, her brow furrowed. What are you doing here?  
  
I was simply straightening up, Lady, when I decided to meditate for a moment, the older woman explained as she stood up. Brushing off the front of her dress, Kirsten crossed the room to her mistress. Oh dear, you are soaked to the bone, Lady.  
  
Alexandréa nodded as she stared absently out the window. Shaking her head, she turned a smile on the shorter woman and nodded. Did you see the fight? No, of course you didn't. Well, the woman I fought against was a water element, or I guess you could call her that. She could both produce and manipulate water.  
  
I see.  
  
She tried to drown me on several occasions, but that is what eventually did her in.  
  
What did, Lady?  
  
I drowned her, Alexandréa said, no remorse in her voice. In fact, it sounded as if she really didn't care that she had just killed another living being.  
  
Well, let's get you dried up, Lady. Kirsten put a hand on Alexandréa's bare back, pushing her slightly toward the bathroom. Picking at Alexandréa's drying raven hair, Kirsten shook her head slightly.  
  
Alexandréa continued on her way to the bathroom even after Kirsten left her to grab some clean clothing.  
  
What would I do without you, Kirsten? Alexandréa asked once the woman entered the bathroom behind her.  
  
I don't know, Lady.  
  
I don't know if I could survive on my own, not with the fits or with everything else. You are another constant in my life, Alexandréa smiled slightly as she stepped out of her wet leathers to slip into something dry and warm. The outfit Kirsten had picked out for her consisted of a pair of short silk shorts and a lowbacked tanktop of the same fabric and dark green colour.   
  
When dried and dressed, Alexandréa walked slowly from the bathroom and went directly to her large bed to curl up under the thick blankets and against the large pillows.  
  
  
  
Yes, miLady?  
  
Tell me of Nikoli. Tell me of my son. Alexandréa opened up one of her large eyes and then the other to look at her aide.  
  
Your son, Lady?  
  
Yes, you heard what I said.  
  
You know I am not to talk about him, the scientists said so, Kirsten said softly as she settled on the edge of the bed.  
  
I don't care what the scientists said. If you get in trouble, tell them I made you tell me, besides, how are they going to find out? This room is not bugged, as I check everyday. Please, Kirsten, tell me about my son. I have only laid eyes on him once or twice and that was just before he was taken away from me. Alexandréa pushed some of the blankets away and sat up. Her eyes of ice pleaded with Kirsten. Please, just a little bit?  
  
Okay, Lady, if you insist.  
  
Yes I do insist. Thank you, Kirsten.  
  
The older woman pulled her legs onto the bed and sat cross-legged, facing Alexandréa who had settled back against her pillows.  
  
Your son, Lady, is still quite young—  
  
Yes, he is two years and his third birthday is in two weeks. Tell me something I don't know.  
  
Hmm, okay. As I am sure you already know, he is not an experiment, his mutations will be natural.  
  
But he has not developed them yet?  
  
Not until he is older, Lady, you know that.  
  
Do not tell me what I know.  
  
Of course, Lady. Kirsten bowed her head in apology before continuing. Young Nikoli has already shown great strength and mental ability, even at such a young age. He's talking and has already started learning German, as you did when you were his age.  
  
Tell me what he looks like, Kirsten.  
  
But don't you—  
  
Please, knowing how beautiful he is never grows old.  
  
The older woman sighed as she tried to fight the irritation growing in her. She could not let it grow too much for Alexandréa would be able to sense it if it did. As it was, Alexandréa looked up at Kirsten, her brow furrowed slightly.  
  
He has hair of raven, like yours, Lady, and bright, curious green eyes that see everything. His skin is of an olive tone  
  
Which I can thank his father for, Alexandréa muttered under her breath. She was hugging a pillow and seemed to be mesmerised by Kirsten's words. The older woman found this interesting, especially the amount of love Alexandréa had for a son she did not know.  
  
like those of the Mediterranean region. Kirsten continued, not skipping a beat. He is even tall for his age and promises great height in the future. The scientists have even started speculating what his mutation might be.  
  
What do they think?  
  
They believe that he will be a shapeshifter, Lady. It's in his eyes and the way that he moves. He has a fluidity that is not common among the human species, but among animal kingdom. A wolf or a big cat is what they believe he will eventually be able to morph into.  
  
But that is not all in the way that he moves, is it, Kirsten?  
  
I do not understand, Lady. Kirsten furrowed her brow.  
  
Leaning forward and sitting up, Alexandréa's eyes went out of focus. She was looking directly at Kirsten, but that was not where her eyes were focused. They were focused on some image that was in her mind.  
  
His father, the late gladiator Nicholas Giancana, or Onca to most, was a shapeshifter. He came from Italy—olive-toned skin, sharp green eyes, black hair—and could morph into a great black jaguar. He was strong, tall, beautiful, just like my son, but he was not strong enough. I cried as I delivered the killing blow. Great tears streamed down my cheeks as I broke his neck. I loved Nicholas, but the scientists did not know. How could a killing machine like myself have the ability to love? How could a monster have a heart big enough to care about killing her lover and losing her son? Alexandréa finished at no louder than a whisper. Her eyes were still unfocused and tears started to stream from them. How could a monster be able to do such a thing? Monsters kill, hate, and are feared. They are not civilized enough to know such things as love. But I did. I loved that man and I love my son, but I can have neither of them, because monsters kill. We don't love. Just  
  
  
_  
  
  
Upstate New York; Xavier's School for Gifted Youth  
  
_ It had not taken Kurt Wagner long to explore the entire mansion. In fact, it had taken only a day or two. So, in that case, he was often found hanging from some random beam or doing acrobatics across the landing.  
  
Apparently you can take the man out of the circus but not the circus out of the man, Bobbie Drake commented as he watched the older mutant do flips and such. Doesn't he ever get tired?  
  
I would say no, Rogue answered, her own eyes watching the incredible display. The two were standing in the front hall, along with several other students, on a late friday evening. There were many other things the students could—and should—be doing, but there was nothing quite as amusing as watching the newest mutant in the mansion.  
  
I wonder if he ever falls, Kitty Pryde mused, her eyes following Kurt as well. Interestingly enough, just as she said this, Kurt lost his balance and went toppling to the ground. All of the students gasped before thinking about what the man might do. In a puff of blue smoke, Kurt had disappeared and, with another, he was safely on his feet, bowing for the small crowd.  
  
Thank you, thank you, he said, his accent heavy, as the students clapped. I will be here all week.  
  
At that, a grunt came from the top of the stairs and everyone looked up.  
  
Is the Elf distracting you kids again?  
  
Ah, c'mon, Logan, Rogue drawled. It's friday night and the last thing I want to do is study.  
  
Yes, let the kids have their fun, Kurt said, cocking his head.  
  
Kids' ? You aren't much more than a kid yourself, Kurt, so I wouldn't be calling these pip-squeaks kids.  
  
I am not a pip-squeak, Kitty growled softly.  
  
At the same time, Bobbie turned to Kurt, his brow furrowed. How old are you?  
  
Kurt just waved his hand and looked out a nearby window. I am not sure.  
  
You don't even know an approximation?  
  
Younger twenties, maybe? Kurt said, shrugging as he looked back at the boy.  
  
You certainly don't look that young. Bobbie rose his brow and looked over the blue man in front of him.  
  
Yeah, looks can be quite deceiving.  
  
Hey, Elf, Logan called, leaning over the railing. Don't you have something to do?  
  
Something to do?' Mein Gott! Yes, yes I do. With that, Kurt disappeared with another puff of smoke and a distinctive brimstone smell that left Bobbie coughing. Once over the fit, Bobbie looked from where Kurt had disappeared and then back at Logan. Shaking his head, he decided that he didn't understand adults and their half spoken conversations.  
  
And you kids all have stuff to look after as well, if I am not mistaken, Logan said, eyeing the small group.  
  
Yes, sir, they grumbled in unison as they walked off to their respective areas. Nodding once, Logan disappeared back the direction he had come.  
  
  
  
  
  
An instant after he had disappeared from the front hall, Kurt appeared in the main hanger located under the basketball court. Lights started to blink on around him. Straightening from all fours, Kurt slowly walked toward the large jet that took up most of the underground hanger. His tail swooshed around behind him, checking his balance, as he once again crouched down, his three-fingered hands touching the cool floor.  
  
he called softly. When no answer came, he tried a bit louder.   
  
As a response, he got the sound of tumbling tools, muttered curses and finally a head of white hair being lowered from a compartment next to the engines. Next a hand came down to rub against an obvious sore spot. Kurt winced slightly.  
  
Sorry about spooking you—  
  
t worry about it, Storm said, flipping around and lowering herself to the floor. It certainly happens enough when I'm working in dark places such as these blasted compartments. Wiping her greasy hands on an equally greasy rag, Storm cocked her head in question. Is it time?  
  
Kurt nodded, straightening up. I think the professor is going back in that machine of his.  
  
  
  
Yes, that is it. Anyway, I think he is going back to make sure the mutant hasn't moved. He says she's been stationary, but there is always that chance that she decides to go somewhere else.  
  
Yes, I guess that is true, Storm nodded, turning around and approaching the ship once again. I just hope this ship is going to get off the ground. She hasn't been working very well since Jean's Well, since Alkali Lake.  
  
Yes. She has become a bucket of bolts, eh? Kurt cocked his head and a small grin spread across his lips. Storm looked back at him before shaking her head.  
  
You really have to lay off the movies, Kurt, she laughed.  
  
But they are all so fascinating! Back in the Munich Circus, I never had time to watch movies. Nobody did. Even if I wanted too, as a circus freak' I couldn't just wander away from those who knew me without getting chased down and accused of being some demon sent by Satan himself. It really is a hard life being blue and fuzzy. Kurt scratched at his cheek with one, large fingernail. Nobody really takes you seriously.  
  
I don't know how that feels, sorry, Storm shrugged.  
  
No, you don't have to sympathise, I've become numb to it, Kurt nodded to himself as he followed Storm onto the ship. Storm looked back at him and opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. Instead, she wiped one hand across her cheek, smearing a long black streak of grease across it, and sat down at the controls.  
  
So, Kurt, why are you coming along on this mission?  
  
The other mutant shrugged and walked up to look over Storm's shoulder. I don't know. The professor asked me to go along with you and Logan. It might be to test me, it might be because Scott is grieving, or maybe it's simply because he thinks I might be useful wherever you are going. And on that thought, where exactly _are_ we going and why?  
  
It's a facility in Europe called Mutant and Animal Testing Laboratories and Facilities, MATLAF for short, Storm explained, bringing up a map on the computer in front of her. At least that is what it is in english. The facility is in Poland, on the Polish-German boarder. Why we are going? Because there is a very strong mutant presence within the facility. The professor wants to get to her before Magneto or the Brotherhood can convince her to join them in the active fight against humans.  
  
The other mutant nodded and was just about to respond when another thought struck him.   
  
Kurt said, looking around. Is this thing on?  
  
No. I can bring up parts of the computer system without starting up the entire jet.  
  
Ah, that's handy.  
  
Yes, yes it is. Anyway, we should be leaving any day now, as soon as the professor gives us the thumbs up. Storm shut down the computer and stood up. Personally, I was hoping we'd be in the air by now.  
  
And what exactly will we do with this new mutant? What if she doesn't want to come?  
  
We aren't going to force her to come, Kurt, just try to pursuade her to. If she ultimately chooses to stay living her life, than that is her choice, Storm said as she walked past Kurt and down the ramp. Besides, she is obviously not the only mutant there, just the one with the most prominent life force and light on Cerebro at the moment. The professor is convinced she will help us in some way and that is another reason why he wants to bring her here.  
  
He sure seems to be putting a lot of faith into someone he doesn't know or has even ever seen, Kurt said, following Storm down the ramp.  
  
You said something about faith once. Storm paused at the bottom of the ramp and looked back at Kurt.  
  
Yes, that is true.  
  
So are you saying that the professor's faith is wrong?  
  
No, it's just different.  
  
  
  
Kurt walked forward for several paces before turning back to Storm. He then crouched down on his haunches and started to think. My faith is of the divine sort, his is of the sort that is harder to describe. He feels that if we bring this new mutant to his school than she will help us, but in what way? Will her help bring destruction upon us? Will she make us all realize that what we fight for is futile, that there is no way to win against the humans? Help is not always a good thing, you know.  
  
Yes, but he has faith in her and wishes to learn from her. Storm dropped her gaze to look Kurt in the eye. Do you doubt the professor?  
  
No, I'm just saying that we should be careful.  
  
We are always careful.  
  
Kurt rose his brow and cocked his head slightly as if questioning the truth behind Storm's last statement. Whatever you say.  
  
Storm simply rose one brow before turning around and disappearing back into the compartment next to the engine. Kurt watched the space where she had disappeared for a moment longer before straightening up and leaving the hanger. From there, he went directly back to his room and sat crouched on his bed. Looking up at the large window across from him, he climbed off the bed and quickly found himself sitting on the windowsill, a breeze playing across his hair and skin. Sighing, Kurt stood and climbed to the top of the mansion, making sure to avoid climbing over other windows on his way up. Once on the top, Kurt crouched, one hand supporting much of his weight, the other curled against his abdomen.  
  
_There is something odd about this facility,_ he muttered to himself in German. _There is something odd about this entire mission. The professor knows more than he is letting on._  
  
Sighing heavily, Kurt just gazed out over the land before him, the lights of New York City brightening the horizon and the night sky.  
  
Mein Gott, he muttered, shaking his head and looking at the roof shingles.  
  
After another hour on the roof top, Kurt eventually made his way back down to his room, the cold of the night starting to effect him. Once there, he did not sleep. He simply sat crouched on his bed and thought. Every once and awhile he would get up to stretch his muscles, maybe do a handstand or two, but then he would go back to his crouching and thinking. His mind jumped all over the place, not staying in one definite spot. However, one thing that kept reappearing was the fact that he was going back to Europe. Granted, it was not Munich—not that he really wanted to return there anyway—but he was going back to a place that would be somewhat familiar, a place he knew.  
  
With this thought in mind, Kurt was finally able to fall asleep. It was very late indeed and, though he did not feel particularly tired, the mutant fell asleep almost the instant his head settled down.  



End file.
